


i can't sleep (until i feel your touch)

by lilliputianmerriell



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilliputianmerriell/pseuds/lilliputianmerriell
Summary: Eugene helps Merriell unwind.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	i can't sleep (until i feel your touch)

**Author's Note:**

> To anon who requested Massage & Sledgefu a while back - it took a turn and it might not be entirely what you hoped for (or maybe it was?), but hopefully the smut will still suffice lol.

Merriell Shelton feels like a fucking wreck.

The past week at the repair shop had been hell with people going crazy simply because of the stupid holidays; his back and neck are cramped, his head and shoulders hurt, and he feels like he could sleep for an entire month. He’s not done this much heavy lifting and running around since the war, and he feels like he’s 67 years old rather than the 27 years he is supposed to be.

Thank god it is the weekend, is the only thought that occupy his mind as he arrives home.

The door shuts behind him with a resounding bang and Merriell barely has the energy to kick off his shoes, leaning heavily against the wooden entrance door to keep himself upright. He doesn’t trust his legs to not buckle underneath him - then again, if he did crumble into a pitiful pile on the floor he might just pass out into blissful nothingness and he’s definitely slept in worse places in his life.

“Snafu?”

Merriell doesn’t answer as he takes a sharp left in the hallway, stripping off his clothes as he heads straight into the bedroom and towards the unmade double-bed pushed up against the far wall. There is a ridiculous amount of pillows in it and he buries himself face-first underneath the small mountain of orange and blue cushions. He imagines that this must be how the bears feel like right before slipping into hibernation.

It doesn’t seem like such a bad idea right now. His whole body aches and Snafu swears he’s feeling muscles he didn’t even know he had. Even his ass is cramped, for fuck’s sake. 

There’s a polite knock on the bedroom door before its pushed open carefully. “Merriell, is that you?” Eugene pokes his head through the small opening. Snafu can feel his eyes trained on him where he’s curled himself up in his small nest. “Rough day, huh.”

Snafu doesn’t dignify that with a coherent answer, only groans into the mattress which dips next to him as Eugene climbs into the bed too. He can feel a hand come to rest on the top of his spine, clever fingers dipping into the dimples underneath sharp shoulder blades and pressing against sore muscle before large palms strokes over them and settles onto where his neck slopes. Thumbs dig into the skin there, and Snafu can feel the tendons twist and burn underneath the pressure to the point of being painful.

“Rough week,” he grunts eventually, letting himself ease up a little under Eugene’s administrations. It feels good to be touched after days of exhausting labour, especially since both of them had been so busy all week that they’d barely seen each other; Eugene being swamped prepping for exams and with his tenureship at the university, and Merriell slaving away at the automobile repair shop. Neither really had the energy beyond greeting each other before passing out in bed.

“Hm.” Eugene digs a knuckle into a particular nasty knot sitting on the top of Merriell’s spine, making the Cajun’s breath catch. “I think I know something that’d help you unwind.”

“Oh yeah?” Merriell twists his head so he can spy Eugene in the corner of his eye. The other man is wearing a sly smile as he meets Merriell’s gaze head-on, unperturbed by Merriell’s expectant stare. 

Without a word, Eugene settles himself at the back of Merriell’s bare thighs and large hands splay themselves over Merriell’s back, like a wild animal preparing to burrow their claws into the soft flesh of its’ pray. But Eugene’s hands are soft, no longer callused from lumbering around with a carbine days on end – he prefers wielding a pencil rather than a M1 Garand these days.

“One thing in particular is coming to mind,” Eugene purrs and drags his fingers down Merriell’s sides, putting enough pressure on that Merriell is certain Eugene’s tattooing his skin pink with his nails.

Merriell doesn’t mind though, too distracted by Eugene’s hands that’s found their way to Merriell’s ass and are massaging the muscle there with intent. He groans again as Eugene works him over, feeling tension in his lower back and glutes letting go and leaving behind a pleasant, faint burn in its’ wake. Eugene is strategically working from the outside and in until those clever hands reach the cleft of his ass, and Merriell feels his breathing still with anticipation as Eugene lets his middle finger trace the cleft downwards.

“D’ya wanna…?” Eugene asks, placing a kiss on Merriell’s shoulder while he gently rubs Merriell’s taint. 

Even if he’s exhausted, Merriell’s already half-hard and doesn’t have to contemplate his answer. “Yeah,” he replies, his breath hitching in his throat as Eugene brushes against his balls. “Fuck, yes.”

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you,” Eugene whispers hotly in Merriell’s ear, giving Merriell’s ass a firm squeeze with the hand not busy teasing his hole. “You don’t have to do a thing.”

The words alone are so fucking maddening and Merriell feels his dick twitch and grow heavy between his legs. But then, the hands disappear off of him entirely and Merriell makes a noise of protest at their absence, grinding himself against the mattress and seeking out friction to satisfy this infuriating need Eugene has invoked in him.

A hand on his hip stops him, Eugene’s word playful but adamant as he says, “I told you, relax and let me handle the rest.” Despite his angelic appearances, Eugene really could be a sadistic piece of shit sometimes.

Merriell scowls but relents, forcing himself to settle down and not give in to headiness chasing up his spine. It’s giving him all sorts of ideas of what Eugene is planning, leading to enticing scenarios of Eugene fucking him raw playing out in his mind. While it is a nice distraction, it isn’t exactly making it any easier to deal with the lack of attention his cock is currently demanding from him.

Doing his best to stave off both bone-deep exhaustion and overwhelming arousal, Merriell props himself up on his elbows and once again twisting around to focus his energy on watching Eugene scoop up a generous dollop of Vaseline to coat his long, magical fingers with.

Eugene catches him staring. He smiles disarmingly as if knowing exactly what’s going through Merriell’s mind. “So impatient,” he says as he crawls back on top of Merriell legs, pinching the soft skin at the back of his thighs with his hand that’s not covered in lubricant.

It elicits a surprised, pathetic squeak from Merriell, who tosses the pillow in Eugene’s face. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he whines. He’s becoming achingly hard, his dick leaking precum on their crisp sheets that are starting to feel too rough against the oversensitive skin. “Please. Eugene, just…”

For one long painstaking moment, there’s only Merriell’s breathless pants sounding in their shared bedroom, as if Eugene is holding off on him for the sheer pleasure of watching Merriell beg that asshole. Just when Merriell is about to tell the other man to fuck off so he could attend to himself in peace, the pad of Eugene’s middle finger once again ghosts over Merriell’s taint before pushing against Merriell’s hole.

“Deep breath,” is all Eugene whispers hotly in his ear before sliding the first finger in slowly, the warning not coming soon enough for Merriell to take the advice and makes his breathing hitch. Eugene pauses for a second when his finger is buried inside him all the way down to his knuckle before moving again, gracing Merriell’s inner walls with his lithe finger.

It’s not enough, and Merriell pushes himself against those fingers only to find that infuriating hand on his hips again that are willing him to still. He wants to complain, to protest against this unfairness that nearly brings his over-exhausted body to tears, but then Eugene inserts a second finger that sends a jolt of pleasure through him; Eugene crooks his fingers inside of him, massaging that spot of nerve-endings that makes Merriell see stars.

The headiness chasing up and down his back increases from a pleasant hum to a throb, spreading from the base of his spine to the tips of his toes. Merriell moans as his body thrums with anticipation, a certain giddiness settling in his mind at having his needs tended to so meticulously.

“Lift your hips up,” Eugene instructs softly, voice barely a breath of air now but to Merriell the command sounds as loud in his ear as any drill sergeant.

And Merriell does, slowly propping himself up on his elbows and knees so to not disrupt the sensation of Eugene’s fingers massaging his insides. He feels full, but it’s not nearly enough to tip him over the edge yet. That is, until Eugene wraps a hand around his dick that’s like a heavy weight between his legs.

Immediately, Merriell’s body breaks out in a sweat, feeling headiness chasing up and down as his orgasm approaches at twice the speed it had. It is like an oncoming train speeding straight towards him, and Merriell is the deer in headlights that is frozen in place and unable to do anything to prevent the eventual collision.

Eugene’s thumb pushes into the slit of Merriell’s cock and the rest of his fingers are making unpredictable, glorious strokes down the shaft, all the while Eugene continues to massage and finger his hole, sending electric shocks through him every time he hits that particular spot inside of him.

Merriell’s arms and legs tremble, from exhaustion and from stimulation. It’s overwhelming, too much, and Merriell only has the briefest moment to think that he won’t be able to get there, that his wrecked body won’t manage to let go and release the tension Eugene has built up in him.

But then Eugene flicks his wrist, and Merriell’s world turn white. He distantly hear his own scream, only muffled by the soft skin of arm as he presses his face into it as his orgasm rips through him. It feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience and he’s ascending to the heavens as he empties himself into Eugene’s hand, his body taught like a string. 

_La petite mort in-fucking-deed_ , he thinks right before he collapses face first into the mattress, the tension he’s been harbouring all week finally seeping out of him. Fuck, he would probably be sore tomorrow too, but now for totally different reasons than having laboured in the repair shop day-in, day-out.

Following the orgasm comes its’ post-haze that promises a night of dreamless sleep, and Merriell is too tired to fight it. Couldn’t have done even if he wanted to, and while it is a bit unfair to Eugene who is left hanging dry, Merriell thinks that Eugene knows he will do him back a tenfold when he has just been allowed this one nap.

“I’mma d’ya back later, I promise,” he mutters out-loud for Eugene to hear, sleep edging at his mind and threatening to submerge his consciousness into blessed oblivion. Eugene doesn’t say anything, or if he does, Merriell is not present enough to hear it. “I don’t deserve you,” he adds, the affection unusual but post-orgasming tends to make his mouth run away from him.

Arms wrap around his waist and he is being moved, turned over and nestled against Eugene’s chest. “G’night, Merriell,” Merriell hears distantly as a sloppy kiss is planted on top of his curls, before he finally lets himself succumb to the relief of sleep.


End file.
